


were our names too unfamiliar to ever speak of love

by mostlikelydefinentlymad



Category: Interview With the Vampire (1994)
Genre: Breaking Up & Making Up, Love/Hate, M/M, POV Lestat, Post-Canon Fix-It, back at it again with the vamp fics, based on the movie only, my bratty victorian son deserved a happier ending, this movie destroyed me in a thousand different ways
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-13
Updated: 2017-02-13
Packaged: 2018-09-24 01:20:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9693581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mostlikelydefinentlymad/pseuds/mostlikelydefinentlymad
Summary: The wind whistles through an open window as fog rolls in. It's mid November and Louis has tired of running from himself, me, our checkered past.Time has hardly changed the face of my beloved, his eyes are the same luminescent green that haunts my dreams. Brunette locks are contained with a single ribbon and he is- "Beautiful, my Louis. You are still beautiful."





	

* * *

 

In the first life, we swallow immortality and bittersweet sin like the living consume oxygen. It blooms like blackened roses in our chests, curls out of bloodstained lips with prickly thorns and still he says, so quietly -

_I did not ask for this._

Tell that to the French quarter and chambermaids with puncture wounds, to the rat who tastes of disease, to the world at large. But don't you dare pin this upon a lonely sire who opened his own vein that fateful night in November. Do not speak of how the air grew thick with fog as if to cover the rushing heat of blood dripping into the cavern of an open mouth. In this life, we have a taste for poison. 

* * *

 

In the second life, we pile bodies like lumber and lose count of the casualties. We dream of Paris in the moonlight and cobbled streets under our feet as if we could ever survive in such a place. It is an absolution we do not deserve and even the devil himself trembles in our midst. I spin dreams of silk brocades and sidewalk artists whose blood would taste of lead and warm beer without saying the words.

We never say the words.

 _I loathe you, don't go. I adore you, leave me here to die._  

And night after night, I take pale fingers in my own and whisper ugly truths until the walls scream out in agony. _We_  are monsters stood on the wrong side of Heaven with our clawed fingers and aching gums as if we could ever be considered holy. 

Louis is a dreamer.

* * *

 

In the third life, we are restless. 

We thrive on disorder and the innocence of nameless faces under yellowed gaslights. They taste of cigars and cheap brandy, of heavily floral perfume and monotony. Louis cringes away from the feast and mutters about morality. 

We buried that the night he pleaded for death and I ushered forth a new beginning, a rebirth.

Louis is mortal in an immortal body, he is ungrateful and selfish. To die is a most sacred gift. 

* * *

 

In the fourth life, we embody biting kisses and cherry red lips. 

His touch is harsh and angry as we tumble to the floor, knees bracketing a pair of hips that were clad in britches and tights one blurred second ago. 

"I hate you," he grunts, talons slicing into skin as he rolls his hips. 

"You killed them," he growls, teeth latching onto the underside of my jaw.

The thought of stealing life from the living makes me moan and tangle a hand in his hair. In response, he growls and tilts his head back eagerly as I tug, exposing his throat. He calls himself humane and good yet he begs to be fed upon as instinct overrides morality. 

Fangs scrape along a protruding neck vein, teasing as he arches against the bed. "I did it for you," I confess. 

"You never...do...anything for...me," he pants in between thrusts. 

He must pay for that insensitive excuse of an accusation and as such, I set forth his punishment. I will drink him as the finest vintage red, tart and sweet on the curve of my tongue, until he's out of his mind with lust. 

Then and only then will I wrap my legs about his waist and give him what he swears he shouldn't want. 

* * *

 

In the fifth life, it is 1994 and we've lost more than we've won. 

Centuries have passed and the old world in which we found comfort has merged into a future with false light and ruined lace cuffs. We do not belong here and yet, we do. Over the long arm of time, we've gone to battle both for and with one another, mourned a cherished daughter and traded love for fire but we always find ourselves here. 

The wind whistles through an open window as fog rolls in. It's mid November and Louis has tired of running from himself, me, our checkered past. 

Time has hardly changed the face of my beloved, his eyes are the same luminescent green that haunts my dreams. Brunette locks are contained with a single ribbon and he is- "Beautiful, my Louis. You are still beautiful." 

If it weren't for the harsh noise of the outside world with it's automobiles and blaring stereos, it could easily be the year of our lord, 1791. His skin is alabaster, cheeks chiseled into marble and ashen lips parted. 

My love, my twisted torturous love has returned for me. Surely he'd followed my scent, the sire link between us surging until he could no run no longer. I want to give it to him, my eager hands, my bruised and gnawed heart.

 

"Lestat," he breathes, dropping to his knees at my side, head pressed to my thigh. "How I've missed you." 

 

I smell the unique scent of him, one that I'd tried to replicate in the bloodied neck of a strange boy once. Nothing could take the place of my Louis. Even as he'd burned my flesh, tossed me to the alligators to be eaten, even as he'd watched me drown in a puddle of my own blood - I loved. He is the only good thing I like about me, the lone chapter of my existence worth reading.

 

"For centuries I have loved," I whisper, stroking his hair.

 

We are softer in this century, the tides of time having knocked us down a notch or two. Gone is the ruthless arrogance and Louis' betrayal. Our hands are forever marred by the mistakes we made but they speak of how we struggled, how we ripped each other to shreds and came back for more. They belong to us and they fit. 

It's not a secret - how we'd loved one another like a house on fire, counting ourselves as both victim and survivor. I have never not cared for him. 

He buries his head in my neck, dropping tiny kisses like posies. 

"As have I," he murmurs. 

We stand, mouths colliding and fangs nipping at lips until they begin to leak crimson. The taste of him trickles in as a cool tongue brushes against mine and it's sweet, tart. The world has changed yet we remain the same. 

My Louis scrapes a sharp tooth against a bottom lip and sucks greedily, moaning as fresh blood hits the back of his throat. I do not regret him, I could never. 

He breaks away, forehead to mine and there's a nagging question I need an answer to before we go any further. 

"Will you stay with me, my darling? We've an eternity yet."

"I have seen the world, Lestat and everywhere I looked, you were not there. I didn't even know I'd been searching until I followed your scent here." He pauses. "I will stay."

In return, I press him into the floor, crimson soiling our shirts and staining lips red like cherries ripe in the Summer sun.

* * *

 

We will never die, it will be this always. Love and hate, oil and water. 

Blood to blood, I will teach him how to feel alive. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> (I own nothing, characters belong to Anne Rice)
> 
> I hadn't watched this movie in years until last night and spent the entire 2hrs screaming and groaning at the tv because Louis, honestly, Lestat loves you in his own twisted way. They love one another in an unhealthy codependent manner that fits like a glove and makes me cry. 
> 
> Also, ARMAND YOU WILL NEVER BE LESTAT. This is why he let you kill your entire clan, rescue him and leave with nothing more than a kiss. You're a good man, I'm sorry but he's claimed.
> 
> ETA: I do not care for the books nor do I care for claudia's storyline as it makes my stomach turn so when I write about Lestat & Louis, she will not be involved and my work will not condone or include pedophilia.


End file.
